The Hen Who Dreamed She Could Fly Read Online Free PDF Page A

covered the egg with the feathers she’d plucked off her chest and emerged from the briar patch. She nibbled on a bit of dew-soaked grass. She couldn’t go too far while she was sitting on an egg, so she had to make do with what was nearby. The ducks were waddling along the waterway, headed to the reservoir. The leader was at the front, and the youngest duck took up the rear. Straggler was not with them. Once again Sprout wished she’d had a chance to say good-bye, but she didn’t feel as alone as before. She searched around for dry grass that would keep the egg warmer. As she headed back toward the briar patch with some blades of grass in her beak, she heard something behind her. Straggler! She was so stunned that she almost dropped everything. He looked exhausted and sad. She was glad to see him, but she stopped in her tracks so he wouldn’t catch her with her egg. He gazed quietly at Sprout’s plucked chest before sitting down. Eventually Sprout went back into the briar patch and settled over the egg. She wondered what had happened to her friend. He didn’t tell her anything, but from time to time he moved his head out from under his wing and looked at her with sad eyes. Sprout wondered why his expression was so dark. She wondered where the white duck was.
    Straggler didn’t leave until dawn. She felt for him, but she was grateful he didn’t ask her any questions about the egg. As the mist-shrouded sun came up, Straggler headed to the reservoir with the other ducks. A while later he returned, a fish hanging from his bill. He placed it in front of the patch and left again.

 
A FAREWELL AND A GREETING
    S traggler brought Sprout a fish every day. Thanks to him, she was able to sit on the egg without getting hungry. Why didn’t he go back to the barn? Why was he feeding her? Why did he pace around the patch all night? She was curious about everything he did but didn’t have a chance to ask. Other than to bring her food, he didn’t come near her, and she had to sit on the egg without moving. She whispered to the egg, “Baby, Straggler climbed up the hill and is looking someplace far away. I think he’s looking beyond the reservoir.”
    On nights when the moon was particularly bright, Straggler ran around flapping his wings. This was new—he’d never done that in the yard. The first time she witnessed Straggler waddling around as fast as he could, Sprout told the egg, “Baby, Straggler’s right wing doesn’t open fully. I wonder what happened. But his left wing is bigger and more powerful than I thought. His wings don’t look like the other ducks’ wings.” On the nights Straggler ran around like that, Sprout told the egg numerous stories. Or she sang lullaby after lullaby in case the egg was startled by Straggler’s loud quacks ringing through the hills. Straggler looked like he was dancing, and Sprout couldn’t help but be concerned. His behavior was becoming more and more erratic. But she didn’t ask him about it. She didn’t want to embarrass him, especially when he was so kind to bring her food each day.
    As the full moon started to wane, Straggler’s dancing became more frequent, and Sprout’s worries more pronounced. Sprout had been sitting on the egg since the moon was a crescent; the baby inside was almost all grown, its heartbeat strong. Soon the shell would crack, but Sprout worried the mallard would frighten the baby. A few more days passed. Straggler skipped some nights, but his odd dance continued. Sprout watched patiently.
    One night, Straggler kicked up a fuss nonstop. He didn’t sleep a wink. He ran about as though he were being chased. It was worse than ever. Sprout, kept awake by the ruckus, decided to have a talk with him. Straggler was a dear friend, but this was really too much. Sprout managed to close her eyes and rest in the morning, when the mallard went to the reservoir. A little